Requiem for a Dream
by Rogue Leader
Summary: John Sheppard is not in Kansas anymore, and he's not sure why.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** Had a dream that I was writing fic; managed to remember enough of it to actually write this.

* * *

The only things John Sheppard knew for certain, as he opened his eyes, were his name, his rank and the fact that he was no longer on Atlantis. Of course, why he wasn't on Atlantis and why that was potentially a bad thing escaped him for the time being. He wasn't even sure where or what _Atlantis_ was, though something in the back of his mind niggled that he knew the answers. Unfortunately, a throbbing headache prevented him from dwelling too much on what had happened, and kept his focus on the immediate present.

"Ye gave us quite a scare, lad," the gruff voice said kindly. The accent wasn't one that John could place, but it was definitely not any that he was readily familiar with. "The way that horse bucked ye off, we all thought..." the voice trailed off as John forced his eyes open. "Well, don't matter what we all though, now, do it? Yer awake, and tha's all one can really hope fer."

John blinked, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. They felt gummy with sleep, and his entire body protested at the movement. It was almost like being caught by a hundred.....Wraith stunners? Was that the term? What the hell was a Wraith stunner?

"Easy, m'boy," the voice continued, as strong hands helped John sit up.

"Where am I?" John asked finally, as his eyes re-focused. He took in the room, and then put a hand to his head with a groan. He must've _really_ hit his head hard, if what he was seeing was real. The entire place looked like something out of one of those Robin Hood era movies; the stone walls and floor were drab, even in the flickering candlelight, and the mattress under his butt felt like it was filled with hay. A wooden table in one corner held a ceramic basin and a pitcher, and on the floor underneath was a copper pot, the use of which John really didn't want to think about right at this moment. The bed sheets were rough, and obviously hand-woven, although the tunic and trousers he wore were soft and comfortable. His bare feet were hidden under the blanket, and there was no sign of his uniform. He looked over the room twice trying to locate his usual clothing, his tac-vest, boots and weaponry, but they weren't there. "And where's my gear? My uniform?"

The man hovering over him was stocky and sunburnt, the definitive medieval farmer. The man's piercing blue eyes gave John a curious look, and the man's unkempt reddish-orange hair shivered lightly as the man shook his head. "Don' know what yer on about, lad. All ye had wi' ye when we found ye, were the clothes on yer back and a bed-roll." A beat before the man added, "An' yer horse wi'is tack, but tha's it, son. Ye had nothin' else."

At John's blank stare, the man started moving about the room, drawing aside the room's only curtains to let in the cool morning air and sunshine. "As fer where ye are, ye managed to land on the fringe of Dellston," he said, blowing out the candles.

John blinked and chanced a delicate shake of his head to try and clear it. Wow, he must have totally been left behind by...he sighed as names and faces swam just out of reach of comprehension. He felt they'd be back for him, whoever they were, but still, the thought of them leaving him didn't sit right. There must have been a damned good reason for it, he figured, he just wished he knew what it was.

"Okay," John said. "Who're you?"

The man chuckled softly. "Erek Vance, at yer service."

"Right. Lieutenant-Colonel John Sheppard."

"Lieutenant-Colonel? Funny and fancy soundin' title for a man wi'nothin' t'his name, but a bed-roll and a horse," Erek commented, canting his head to one side.

"S'not my title. It's my rank. I'm...I'm in the military," John replied with a shake of his head. He peered at his would-be benefactor as the man started to laugh. John swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet on the ground, pausing as his head spun and threatened to black out again. After several moments, the laughter subsided to a sputtering chuckle.

"I'm sorry, lad. But what type o'military man travels wi'out his weapon, eh?" Erek finally said, still doubled over with his hands on his knees. He straightened and wiped a tear from his cheek. "Honestly, lad, whoever y'think ye are, is a far cry from what ye be lookin' like." Erek stepped over to John and helped him up. "But no matter, whoever y'might be, ye'll have a place here for the time bein'."

"Thanks," John replied, wobbling a little as his brain tried to make the room stop its gentle swaying. At least he wouldn't have to beg for room and board as he waited for...again, the names and faces swam just out of reach, and John settled on trying not to remember. He'd be satisfied with _waited to be rescued_, regardless of who did the rescuing.

* * *

_The woman standing across from him fixed him with a steady gaze. They each raised a bantos rod to the ready position, pausing for only a moment before erupting into a flurry of movements. Parry after parry, riposte after riposte, the rods clacked rhythmically in the still air of the gym. They had been sparring together for so long that each was intimately familiar with the other's movements. The round ended after a short while, and this time, it wasn't because he was once more knocked to the ground and in pain._

_She smiled at him, clearly impressed at his progress. "You have vastly improved, John. I'm impressed."_

_"Yeah, well, I have one hell of a teacher," he replied. "You and Ronon keep me on top of my game."_

_"I hear that you can almost hold your own against him now," she teased._

_"And I can almost kick your ass," he replied, launching into a renewed attack._

_They fought for several more rounds before they were interrupted by the radio call._

_"John, Teyla? Please come down to the Control Room. There's something you need to see," Weir's voice had a slight note of urgency to it, and both John and Teyla hurried out of the gym to wash up and join their Expedition Leader._

_

* * *

  
_

The mid-morning sun was growing warmer by the minute, and John knew he only had an hour or two left to finish his outdoor tasks for the day. Erek's farm had been home for several weeks now, and once John had regained his strength he'd been put to work. It was only fair, after all, that John work for his room and board. He had picked up on the rhythm of farm life easily enough, and the manual labour felt good after his recent injuries.

John had also started venturing out into the community, figuring it was better to join them than to play the outsider. He couldn't afford any suspicions directed towards him, if he was going to survive long enough to be found. This, of course, meant joining them for all the town festivals and the weekly worship service. The feeling that he had been through this bit before, only someplace else, kept nagging at him. The worship services, especially, kept throwing him for a loop, as they were all together familiar yet undeniably foreign. The sermons kept opening doors in his mind, but they failed to illuminate anything beyond those doors. He knew deep inside him that the things preached from the pulpit should raise some sort of excitement, but why and for what, he could never nail down.

It was an unsettling feeling, and he pushed it away with the work he did for Erek during the week. It was hard to not-quite-remember and not-quite-feel things when one was concentrating on tilling fields and tending animals, and one's sleep tended to be dreamless if one was tired enough at the end of the day. Even still, there were nights when he would wake in a cold sweat, the dying images of another time and place dancing before his eyes as he panted for breath in the darkness. Names and terms and locations that he could recite seconds after opening his eyes would fade quickly into elusive ideas and concepts, leaving him with a horrified sense of duality.

Today, however, marked nearly a week in which he was able to avoid what he had begun to classify as nightmares, and he prayed that the trend would continue. He only had a few more weeds to turn out before he was done, and he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Good day to you, John Sheppard!"

John looked up at the call, and raised his hand with a smile. "Good day to you, Leo. Everything okay?"

"All is well, yes," the other man replied, pausing by the fence. "Hard at work, I see?"

John stabbed the shovel into the ground and brushed his hands off as he wandered over. "Yep. Just a few more weeds and Erek's crops will be good to go."

"Excellent," Leo replied, beaming. "You've done much to help him this past season. We've been praying that someone would come to help him ever since his wife passed last year. The farm was starting to fall into disrepair."

John smiled politely, raising his shoulders in a delicate shrug. "Well, helping out is the least I can do. I mean, from what I heard, Erek put me up while I was injured, and spent a fair amount of money for the doctor. It seems that I owe him quite a bit."

Leo nodded appreciatively. "Yes. But you do much more than simply repay a debt, John. You've given hope to a man who had nearly lost his faith in God. For that, you will be blessed richly." He reached out to pat John on the shoulder. "I must get back home before the day turns too hot. I'll see you later on."

"Take care, Leo," John replied, watching as the other man continued on his way. Distraction ended, John returned to his shovel so he could finish with those weeds, hoping that those rich blessings would come in some form of salvation from this place.

John was on his way home from the tavern later that night when he met her, just as he was crossing the town square. Actually, it was more when she nearly ran him over as she raced by on horse-back. He jumped out of the way in the nick of time, only turning to give chase as he heard her scream. Taking in the horse's wild course, John cut across the square, leaping up onto the ledge of the town's fountain and bounded to the other side. He paused for a split-second to make sure he didn't go the wrong way, and then surged into a sprint as the horse turned back in his direction.

As the mount drew level with him, he reached out and swatted at the reigns, trying to hook his fingers around the leather straps. The horse was beginning to pull ahead of him when he finally made the catch, and in two more bounds, he swung up into the saddle behind the rider, pulling tight on the reigns. Several tense moments followed as man and beast wrestled for control, but in the end, John persevered, and brought the horse into a slow canter before pulling to a stop completely as he cooed soothingly to both mount and rider.

The startled young woman cradled in his arms was on the verge of hyperventilating, if her gasps for breath were any indication, so John concentrated most of his gentle and relaxing gibberish on her, turning his head to whisper in her ear. It took several more minutes before her breathing evened out and she relaxed against him.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Not a problem, m'lady," he replied. "I take it you were on your way home?"

"Aye," she said with a nod. "I live in the manor on the top of the hill." She pointed off into the distance towards the only manor house this far out in the country.

John swallowed thickly, as the woman's identity started to become somewhat clear. The manor belonged to the Kymeri family, and from what John had been able to inference about them from the talk about town, they were pretty hot stuff. If the rumours were to be believed, the Kymeris were distantly related to the Royal Family that resided down in the capital city, a week's ride from Dellston. They mostly kept to themselves, though they were spotted around town every so often, or at worship. When they graced the town with their presence, the Kymeri family was subjected to the usual hushed gossip and awed looks reserved for such nobility.

John tended to ignore them, for the most part, figuring that the rest of the town would more than make up for his lack of gossip and gawking, and on the two occasions in which he had to interact with Mister Kymeri, he was respectful and poised, the way he was trained to be in the presence of dignified company. John liked to imagine that the smiles he received in return were grateful ones, and not of the indulgent variety the Kymeris usually bestowed upon the populace.

Therefore, this whole rescue thing could be very, very good, or very, very bad, John decided, and he really hoped it was the former and not the latter.

"Then please, allow me to escort you the rest of the way, Miss Kymeri," he said, gently goading the horse into an easy trot. He could almost feel the slump of her shoulders as he identified her, and her soft sigh wasn't nearly soft enough to be missed.

Consequently, the ride was made in silence, mostly because John had no idea what to say to the woman. Hell, he wasn't even sure what she looked like, so he couldn't make any comment or compliment to that effect. Thankfully, the ride up the hill didn't take as long as he had feared it would, and it seemed that both the horse and Miss Kymeri were glad, too.

He brought them to a halt outside the gates to the estate and dismounted. He offered a helping hand as she, too, dismounted, both averting their gaze from the other awkwardly. He slipped the reigns into her hand and bowed slightly. "M'lady, I hope that the rest of the evening is less stressful for you."

"Thank you again," she said quietly.

John took that as his dismissal and turned to go.

"Wait!" she called and he paused. "What's your name?"

He turned slightly, a hint of a smile playing over his lips. "John Sheppard."

"Thank you, John Sheppard. I owe you a debt of gratitude."

John shook his head. "Nah. Just be more careful when riding at night. Horses can get spooked easily." He tossed her a casual salute and continued on down the hill towards home.


	2. Chapter 2

_Doctor Elizabeth Weir stood in the center of the control room, staring at the monitor with her arms crossed over her chest. She didn't even turn as John and Teyla entered._

_"Elizabeth. What's up?" John asked, following Weir's gaze._

_"Major Lorne and his team discovered a Wraith outpost on P5R-J93. The intel he managed to gather suggests that it's a key installation and that destroying it would seriously cripple their movements in that area of the galaxy."_

_"That was a lucky find," Teyla said, wide-eyed._

_"Yes, it was," Weir agreed. "Which is why we think it might be a trap."_

_"What're you thinking?" John asked, regarding her carefully._

_"I was thinking we might spring the trap," she replied, turning to look up at her Military Commander._

_John thought for a moment. "It'll be risky, but knowing that it's a trap going in..."_

_Weir nodded. "Just might give us the edge we need to take it out."_

_Teyla frowned. "And if the importance of this facility was exaggerated?"_

_"You mean like bait," John said._

_"Yes," Teyla confirmed. "Dr. Weir, I think it would be unwise to fall for so obvious a trap, feigned or not."_

_"No, Elizabeth's right," John said. "Yes, it may be a trap, and yes its value may have been blown out of proportion, but we still need to investigate this. If any of that intel is true, we need to know."_

_John and Teyla regarded each other for a long moment, before the Athosian finally nodded with a wry smile. "Very well. It is my hope that I am wrong."_

_Weir smiled. "Actually, your misgivings will be an asset to this mission. They'll help us be over-prepared in the event that this goes south."_

_The consensus reached, Weir keyed the radio and called in the rest of the senior staff. They had a mission to plan for._

_

* * *

  
_

With a groaning stretch, John rose from bed, later than usual. The sun heralded mid-morning, and a wash of cold coursed through him, as he realized how late it was. John hurried through his morning routine of washing up and dressing, hoping that he hadn't set Erek back too far in the day's work with his absence. As he emerged from his room and grabbed a leftover breakfast roll, Erek slipped in through the front door, with a wry smile plastered on his face.

"John, yer up," Erek greeted amiably. "Thought it'd take th'devil hi'self to rouse you this morn'."

"I'm sorry for sleeping late, Erek," John apologized. "I don't usually..." he trailed off as Erek waved at him to shut up.

"Don't be worryin'. Thanks to your help, we's actually ahead of schedule and the delay won't be hurtin' us much." Erek gave John and curious look. "In fact, ye might be usin' this time to tell me why the Kymeris are parked on m'front porch askin' fer ya."

John closed his eyes with a sigh, his lips quirking into a tiny smile. "I...may have saved Miss Kymeri from an unruly horse last night and escorted her home. Why I was back so late."

Erek's shoulders slumped in relief. "Well done, lad. Maybe now those folks'll be thinkin' different of us peasants. Come, Miss Kymeri is waitin' on ye wi'her father jus' outside."

John finished the roll as quickly as he could and downed a couple of mouthfuls of water. He ignored Erek's amusement as he straightened his tunic and tried to flatten his unruly hair. He also ignored Erek's muttered _bloody useless, that_ and instead headed outside so he could get this meeting over with.

Mister Kymeri was the first to notice John, and the elder man gave him an appreciative once-over. It seemed the nobleman remembered John from their previous encounters and was pleased and not in the least shocked by the identity of his daughter's rescuer. The young woman kept her gaze downcast, in an attempt to retain her modesty for just a few moments longer, or until her father allowed her to give it up.

"Mister Kymeri," John greeted warmly, his bow halted as the other man reached out and shook his hand.

"Mister Sheppard. It seems that your considerations from our previous meetings have been outdone by your heroics. I'm grateful that you were present in my daughter's time of need."

John inclined his head in respect. "I'm sure others would have done the same in my position, Mister Kymeri. It was nothing, really."

"Aye, they may have, but they also would have pounded on my door to demand compensation for such an act."

"No compensation was, or is, necessary, m'lord," John said truthfully. Honestly, didn't these people get that he used to do this sort of stuff for a living? "Your daughter's safety is compensation enough," he added, glancing over at her.

John wasn't sure what he was expecting when she turned to face him for the first time, as his words seemed to settle the whole modesty thing once and for all. Her sharp glance upwards coincided with his, and he couldn't help the shock that registered within him as he took in her features. Hers was the face from nearly all his nightmares, and even if not identical to the woman from his dreams, then close enough to send a shiver down his back and his jaw to disengage and fall into a slight gape.

_"Elizabeth,"_ he whispered, and from the cant of her head and the non-reaction from their audience, he knew only she had heard him. His eyes never left hers as he took the hand she extended into his own delicately, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. As his lips touched her skin, he began to unconsciously compare the woman from his dreams to the one standing before him now.

Her hair was longer, for one thing, falling to mid-back, but her eyes were the same piercing orbs that haunted him when he dreamed. Her figure was every bit as regal, as well, but she had the grace and poise of a noble, not the slightly- stocky build of an ambassador-turned-expedition-leader. Despite the differences, however, the resemblance remained uncanny, and John just couldn't shake the feelings that had begun to reassert themselves. This acquaintance was going to be problematic, after all.

The majority of the unearthly spell that Miss Kymeri's presence had invoked over him was broken as her beaming father made the formal introductions, "John Sheppard, my daughter, Rosa Kymeri."

"It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mister Sheppard," Rosa said as John straightened.

He noted that her voice held only the faintest of traces of the voice from his dreams, and for that he was thankful. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Kymeri," he managed to say; he was pleased to hear the words emerge steady and confident.

Kymeri drew Rosa's attention. "Why don't you allow Mister Sheppard to show you around the farm, while Mister Vance and I have a chat, hmm?"

Rosa gave her father a partial curtsey, and John offered her his arm. As the pair headed off, Erek and John exchanged a look, the elder man flashing the younger an encouraging smile and a wink. John offered his own silent good luck, and then led Rosa back towards the house and the fields beyond.

"My father really is appreciative of all you've done, Mister Sheppard," Rosa said when they were finally out of earshot.

"Like I said, it was nothing," he replied. "And please. Call me John."

She peered at him. "That wouldn't be proper. Especially considering that we have only just been introduced."

John shook his head. "Yeah, well, I was never one to stand on ceremony. Not outside of necessity, at any rate." He glanced behind them. "Besides, no one is going to hear you except me. "

Rosa frowned. "Precisely. And while your heroics entitle you to escort me around this farm without a chaperone, I'd hate for you to believe that they entitle you to more than that."

"Ouch," John said with a wince. "I don't think I've heard that sort of venom from a woman in a very long time."

"Then perhaps it is high time that a woman put you in your place," she countered, a little more gently. "And perhaps someday you and I will be friends enough to do as you suggest, and discard the formalities."

"Let me guess, today isn't that day?"

"No," she said with a smile.

They walked in silence for a bit, each lost in thought. Finally, he had to ask, "So, how long do we have to walk before I'm expected to return you?"

Rosa chuckled. "To the end of the field, at the very least. And don't worry. I know enough about farming to pretend that you've given me a proper tour."

"Oh, good. Now I won't have to try and pretend like I know what I'm talking about," John replied, his grin widening as Rosa laughed.

"You really were wonderful last night."

"Yeah, well, if you tell Erek the details he'll kill himself laughing."

She smiled up at him. "Why is that?"

"Because from what he tells me," John replied, smiling back, "I came into his care after being thrown from my own horse nearly a month or so ago."

"You didn't." She giggled.

"Well, I don't remember if I did or didn't. I just know that waking up was painful, and getting back on my feet was worse."

"But you must have _some_ skill with horses to be able to do what you did."

John nodded. "Yeah, I do. I used to...huh." He furrowed his brow.

"What is it?" Rosa asked, concerned.

"It's just. ...I don't remember much from before the accident. I just have these images and feelings. I mean, I _know_ I can ride a horse and I'm fairly capable in handling them, but..."

"You don't remember why?" Rosa supplied.

John nodded. "Yeah."

After a brief silence, Rosa glanced up at him. "Is that why you called me Elizabeth?"

John stopped walking, and they turned to face each other, Rosa's hand dropping from his arm to brush against his fingers. He dropped his gaze as their fingers intertwined. "To tell you the truth, I don't know why I called you that. It's just the name that popped into my head when I saw you."

"Was she special to you?"

"I think so," he admitted.

"Your wife, perhaps?" Her expression carried a hint of hope that that wasn't the case.

John shook his head. "No, not my wife. I get the impression that we're colleagues, as well as close friends, but nothing more than that. At least, in my dreams..." He sighed and put a hand to his head. "Never mind," he said, forcing a smile and giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Rosa smiled back and returned the gesture. "All right," she said quietly, though John got the impression that she wouldn't let this go any time soon, not until she got answers from him. It was a hell of a way to ensure that they'd see each other again, no matter how unintentional.

John spared another glance towards Erek and Kymeri, catching the not-so-subtle eye of a father keeping watch over his daughter. He turned back to Rosa with a smile. "I think maybe we should head back. Looks like your father is ready to go."

Rosa smiled shyly and nodded. They headed back, arm-in-arm once more. As they approached, Kymeri made a great show of puffing up his chest with pride and holding his arm out for Rosa, who transferred from one man to the other with practiced ease.

"Well, Mister Vance, it's been a delight to visit your little farm," Kymeri said. "I do hope it won't be the last."

Erek seemed to take a page out of John's book, and inclined his head respectfully. "It was an honour havin' ye visit, Mister Kymeri. You an' yer family are welcome anytime."

Kymeri turned to John. "Many thanks again, Mister Sheppard. I hope to see you around more often, as well."

"As often as my work will allow, if you and Miss Kymeri are agreeable," John replied, giving Rosa a shy smile. She smiled back before being helped back into the carriage that had arrived for them, her father close behind her.

John stood with his hands in his pockets as he watched them drive away, still vastly unsettled by Rosa's appearance. He barely registered Erek's hand on his shoulder, as the elder man tugged him back to reality.

"C'mon now, John. Let's see what we can salvage of th'day's work," Erek said kindly, apparently mistaking John's unease with something less distressing than nightmares come to life. After a long moment, John nodded and followed Erek round back, where they settled in to work for what was left of the day.

* * *

_The plan was a simple one: Team Sheppard would go in as usual, while Lorne and Stackhouse hung back with their own groups, along with two teams of Marines. Team Sheppard would be their typically curious and disruptive selves and feel out and spring whatever trap had been set for the Lanteans. Lorne and Stackhouse would be instantly on-hand to bring up the rear and dispatch whatever ambush lay in wait._

_Of course, John should have known it was too simple, and getting in was far too easy, even for a trap. But get in they did, and then some. McKay was able to determine that the intel was indeed correct, and that this outpost controlled a huge part of the Wraith's movements in this sector. John and Teyla kept exchanging worried glances, as each waited for the catch, and when none was forthcoming, their unease intensified._

_"Okay," John whispered. "McKay, call in to Lorne and confirm your findings. It's high time we headed out."_

_"Wait," McKay said, not falling into step with the others as they began to fall back. "Now that I've got all this, aren't we supposed to blow the place? I mean, that is standard military protocol, yes?"_

_John shook his head. "Not this time. My spidey-sense is wiggin' me out. Staying long enough to rig the place would be a bad move. We need to fall back to the Gate _now_. "_

_"I, too, feel uncomfortable," Teyla confirmed. "Colonel Sheppard is correct. We need to leave. The sooner, the better."_

_With both Colonel and Athosian backing each other up on this one, neither Ronon nor McKay challenged the point further, and the entire team carefully extracted themselves from the Wraith facility._


	3. Chapter 3

John and Rosa were walking slowly, hand-in-hand, up the road towards the Kymeri estate. They had seen much of each other, over the past months, time-permitting, with the up-coming harvest, and all. While their relationship wasn't a courtship, per se, they nevertheless had begun to forge a lasting friendship. They had been the talk of the town for the first little while, and when the couple had failed to produce gossip-worthy exploits and escapades, the budding relationship was left in peace. The discretion displayed by both Rosa and John was not lost on Mister Kymeri, and after observing the pair at worship for a few weeks, even he left them to their own devices, by practicing a bit of discretion of his own; Rosa's chaperone became scarcer and scarcer, until she all but disappeared to the couple. Instead, she began watching them from afar, giving the two a sense of freedom and privacy while still maintaining a watchful eye to make sure that propriety and protocol weren't sacrificed.

"Tell me about your dreams, John," Rosa asked.

John shrugged, a non-committal gesture to state how unimportant those really were. "They're dreams. They don't mean anything."

"I think they do," she countered. "Else they wouldn't haunt you, so."

"They don't haunt me," he said wryly.

Rosa squeezed his hand, and smiled. "You're lying to me," she stated, looking up at him. "I can tell."

John closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. "Okay, they haunt me. But I can usually make them go away."

"Does my presence still invoke them?"

"Not anymore, no."

"But you still dream about her?" Rosa pressed. "Elizabeth?"

John nodded. "I do. The dreams usually come on Sundays. By Monday night, I've managed to work hard enough during the day to pass out and push them away."

"Tell me?" she pressed again.

With another sigh, he nodded. He told her what he remembered about Atlantis and its people. It didn't take very long to go through it all, and after he finished they continued in silence as she mulled it over.

After a long silence, she finally spoke again, "Why only Sunday nights?"

John thought about it for a moment, trying to find the words to explain. "The sermons during worship; they keep breaking open parts of my mind that I should be able to delve into, but can't. It's like they point to something that I should be grasping, but when I try, it's still too far out of reach."

"Perhaps it is your mind's way of keeping you from following our faith?" she said after a moment. "I've been taught that when one seeks to enter into a relationship with God, the Enemy tries to prevent them from accomplishing it. Your dreams of this, this Atlantis, sound like an attack to keep you second-guessing."

John shook his head. "No. I've never been one prone to spiritual enlightenment, but hell, even I can testify that there are no atheists in foxholes, as the saying goes. You learn very quickly how to pray when you're under fire in enemy territory."

Rosa smiled indulgently. "If you say so, John. But you wait and see. The day you discover what lies beyond those doors, will be the day you tell me I was right in my assessment."

"We'll see," he allowed, before steering them onto a different topic for the rest of the walk.

* * *

Rosa began visiting early Monday morning, and each week, she continued to pry John for more information on his dreams. The exercise forced him to remember more about them with each passing conversation, and consequently, he began to have them regularly again. Each time he and Rosa sat and discussed these dreams, she managed to find a way to educate him on the nuances of their faith.

It took a while, but finally, something about the whole religion ultimately prompted two things to occur within John's mind: first, he recalled that it sounded nearly identical to Christianity back in the Milky Way, and second, he actually remembered what the _Milky Way_ and _Christianity_ were. And with those remembrances, he made the link between _Milky Way_ and _Pegasus_, and for once in his life he felt the sweet relief of finally figuring out what the hell was going on. He was Lieutenant-Colonel John Sheppard, Military Commander of Earth's Atlantis Expedition, and therefore still somewhere in the Pegasus galaxy on a planet that didn't revere the Ancients, so much as it revered _an_ Ancient.

Rosa looked at him curiously, her lips turning up in a tentative smile as she saw the change come over him. "You've remembered something?"

"That, and possibly figured something out," he agreed.

"And what have you figured out?" she asked, watching him closely.

"Well, see, your religion," he began.

"What's wrong with it?" Rosa stiffened as she sensed some sort of attempt at drawing her away from her faith.

John held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Nothing's wrong with it, Rosa, save for the fact that it shouldn't exist out here." He held up a finger to stall the protest forming on her lips. "Hear me out. First, God has to be an Ancient. Not just any Ancient, mind, but the one in charge of terraforming this particular planet. Christos is possibly a derivative of his name in the Ancient Language, and he lived here once your civilization was planted and settled."

"Our civilization wasn't planted by a man, John, Ancient or otherwise."

John shook his head. "All life in this galaxy was brought here by the Ancients. They created the worlds, in a manner of speaking, by transforming each one to sustain life."

"_God_ created the galaxy and the life on this planet from nothing."

"What about the other planets? Did he create the life on those from nothing, too?"

"Don't be silly, John. God, though he seeded the heavens with many stars, and no doubt many that you would call galaxies, only created life on _this_ planet."

John regarded her for a moment, deciding it wasn't worth the effort to try and argue at this point. Instead, he decided to continue. "Right. Okay, then. The Spirit of Christos is what's been giving me issues, but now that I think of the story and from what I know of the religion we call Christianity, it sounds an awful lot like the whole crucifixion and resurrection thing."

"Yes, Christos was nailed to a tree, blamed by the heretics for the unnatural storms and plagues that had begun to assail the people. When they went to retrieve his body from its resting place several days later, it was gone," Rosa confirmed, fingering the golden cross hanging around her neck.

"Right, but what if Christos faked his own death and then Ascended when no one was looking?" John asked, his eyes playing over the emerald in the center of the pendant before moving up to meet Rosa's stare.

"I don't understand."

"You know, Ascended to a higher plane of existence. Turned into pure energy and shed his mortal body. Ascended beings can re-take human form when they want to or need to, so that also accounts for people being able to see him afterwards?"

Rosa smiled, the expression stating that she thought John was crazy. "Christos' death was verified by those that killed him. He was quite dead when they laid him to rest. It was by God's grace that he was given life, given the ability to appear to his disciples and then be raised back to his home in heaven. "

"But how do you _know_?" John pressed. "How can you be sure?"

"Because the Book of Christos tells us," she replied easily.

"Yeah, and that was written how many years ago by how many men?"

"It was written by divine inspiration by those chosen by God to record the tidings of our history and ancestry. I don't need to know the circumstances surrounding the minutiae of these men's lives to know that what they produced is infallible truth."

"Yes, but how can you blindly believe..."

"I do not blindly believe anything. It's called _faith_, John," she said, cutting him off. "Perhaps it is something you must learn to possess for yourself."

* * *

_"Major Lorne, we're coming up around the long-way," John reported. "The short way looked a little suspicious."_

_"Copy that, Colonel. We've got you covered," Lorne replied over the headset._

_Team Sheppard followed the path, Teyla and John taking point, McKay in the middle and Ronon watching their six, as they beat a hasty retreat. They hadn't gone far when the first stunner blast rocketed out from between the trees, splitting the team into pairs as they dived for cover._

_"Lorne, we're under fire, repeat, we're under fire," John called into his radio, rolling up onto a knee and taking a snap shot at the tree line. His fire prompted the Wraith to emerge, and the bad feeling that he and Teyla had been sharing finally coalesced into fear._

_The importance of the facility hadn't been overestimated, but the forces guarding the place had been sorely underestimated, even with Teyla and John's outrageous imaginings factored into their plans._

_"More than two dozen Wraith are bearing down on us!" McKay called, eying the life-signs detector traitorously. "I think it's safe to say we're screwed."_

_"Not without a fight we aren't," John replied through gritted teeth. "We just need to hold on until Lorne and Stackhouse get here with the others."_

_"Right, easy for you to say," McKay whined._

_John growled. "Everyone, fall back, keep moving!" He hated feeling like they were being driven towards a pre-determined point, but there was nothing to be done about it. They were cut off from all other avenues._

_Team Sheppard did their best to stay ahead of their pursuers, but as the road narrowed and the ground on the right began to fall away as they hit the side of an embankment, the Wraith's plans became abundantly clear. They were going to try and force the Lanteans over the edge..._

_

* * *

  
_

John slowed to a halt as he was escorted onto the rooftop terrace of Kymeri Manor. There, among the flora and patio set, were Rosa, her father, Erek, and the town's Minister, Reverend Powell. They all wore concerned looks, save for Rosa, who merely looked guilty. As soon as John's eyes met hers, she tried to move to him, but her father's firm hand prevented her.

"I'm so sorry, John," she pleaded. "I didn't think they'd do this..."

"M'lady," John greeted, ignoring her. "Gentlemen." He had a bad feeling about this.

Reverend Powell stepped forward. "Son, don't be alarmed, now."

John snorted, making sure to lay a thick coating of sarcasm over his words as he replied, "I'm surrounded by people who I thought I could trust. What's there to be alarmed about?"

The Reverend, raised a brow and continued, "Rosa mentioned you had regained what you believe to be your true memories. She also spoke of dreams you'd been having."

"John, I'm sorry," Rosa whispered. "I accidentally let slip what you had told me after I mentioned to daddy that I had been ministering to you."

John nodded. "Right. Poor John Sheppard doesn't know what he's talking about after he hit his head a little too hard. So, you all decide to stage an intervention and try and to help her convert me," he said, eying each man in turn. "Or is this going to be an inquisition?"

Erek shook his head. "Ye don' understand, lad. We all care fer ye. Yer travelin' down a dangerous road, talkin'bout other planets and Ancients."

"It's where I came from," John said with a snarl. "Why can't you people see that I don't belong here?"

"Easy son," Powell said. "You belong _here_, on this planet, in this town; it's where you were born and where you will die some day. You had loving parents who cared for you the way we do. Your place is here, not among the stars."

John stood tall, drawing himself up to his full height. "I am Lieutenant-Colonel John Sheppard of the United States Air Force; Military Commander of the Atlantis Expedition."

Erek shook his head again. "No, yer not. John Sheppard ye may be. But ye be a _farmer_, an' my ward. Ye..."

"I was chosen for the expedition because I possess the gene then allows me to use the technology created by the Ancients," John continued, a bit more loudly to drown out Erek. He circled the group slowly, eyes playing over everyone in turn.

Powell glared at him. _"Heretic!"_ he hissed, moving to intercept. "The Ancients are nothing but the figment of those who would destroy the church and her people. There is but one God. Mankind is not capable of possessing God's ability to form and create from nothing!"

"No!" John yelled. "This has nothing to do with your religion. You're all keeping me here against my will." He stepped closer to the ledge. "And if death is my only escape from you people, so be it!" He eyed Kymeri and Powell as they flanked him.

Rosa stood before John, tears in her eyes. "John, please," she said quietly, her voice cracking. "I don't care what you believe. Just tell them you repent and it'll be done. Please, for me, John..."

John gave Rosa a pitying look. "No. I won't live a lie. Not even for you." He caught movement in the corner of his eye as he spoke. He turned to confront Kymeri, catching onto Powell's lunge two seconds too late.

The minister's attack knocked John off-balance, as he swung around to push the older man away. John stumbled backwards, clutching wildly at everything within his grasp, in a vain attempt to steady himself. He'd been willing to jump and end this nightmare, but he'd be damned if he'd be pushed.

Rosa cried out in fear, and rushed forward to grab him, but it was too late. John reached out, missing her hand by all together. Instead, John's fingers closed around Rosa's necklace, his fingers wrapping around the pendant and the chain snapping as he lost his balance and fell, his body twisting as he plummeted down the hundred-foot drop to the ground below...


	4. Chapter 4

"There he is," the soft Scottish brogue greeted warmly. "You gave us quite a scare, lad."

John's eyes fluttered opened, and he tried to focus on Beckett, with little success. "Did you just call me _lad_?" he asked, horrified to hear the coarseness of his own voice. How long had he been out?

"Aye, I did." Beckett may have smiled. It was still hard to tell what things looked like. "We nearly lost you there. It was touch-and-go for a long time," he continued, ignoring John's attempt at a scowl as Beckett fiddled with the drip. "Now, now," he added, placing a hand on the Lt.-Colonel's chest to preempt the other man's attempt at sitting up. "I'd advise you stay just as you are for a little while longer. At least until your head clears."

John groaned as he sank bank into the medical cot. "I hate it when you're right," he muttered. "What the hell happened?"

"You were ambushed by the Wraith. Took about a dozen stunners, which knocked you off an embankment. You were unconscious by the time you hit the ground, which didn't do you any favours," the doctor explained carefully. The hesitation before Beckett's next words had John bracing himself for the worst. "You've been in a coma for nearly a month and a half."

The Lieutenant-Colonel sank further into the cot and squeezed his eyes shut. It had all been a dream after all, then. Rosa, the inquisition...everything that he had lived through had been a figment of his imagination. It was all for the best, he was sure, but that didn't stop the sharp, cold pain of loss from hitting him.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Beckett's tone was laced with worry, and John made the effort to pat the hand that now gripped his arm. "John?"

"I'm okay, doc. I just...just need a moment."

Beckett nodded, patting the other man's arm. "I'll go radio Elizabeth, let her know that you're awake. "

John nodded as best as he could, and he hoped that the single tear that ran down his cheek chose to do so after the doctor had turned away.

* * *

The ocean's spray was more like a fine mist, up this high in the Control Tower. The roar of the waves as they cascaded against the city was a soothing balm to Lieutenant-Colonel John Sheppard, and the warm afternoon sunlight felt good after being in the infirmary for so long. As he stood there, what he knew for certain was his name, his rank and the fact that he was back home on Atlantis. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Both he and his companion were quiet, having been standing there for a good twenty minutes, in companionable silence. Neither wanted to break the spell that this particular view seemed to weave for them, and the momentary reprieve from thought and examination was a welcome one.

"I think I have an inkling of what you went through," John said finally, sparing a brief glance over at Elizabeth Weir. "With that whole nano-virus-coma thing, only in reverse."

"Unsettling, isn't it? Finding out that all you remembered was a figment of your imagination, only to discover that what you know now is a lie?"

"Knowing that what you think you know will end up getting you killed...I was _convinced_ that I belonged in that place, and that all those flashes of the Ancients and Atlantis and Earth were heretical nonsense." He sighed. "It was weird, to say the least."

"At least you got the girl?" Weir said, and the attempt at lightening the mood was appreciated.

"Yeah, but in the end she got me. Her efforts to help me lose the demonic visions' is what got me into trouble in the first place."

"I'm just impressed that your mind was able to take two vastly different belief systems and extrapolate a coherent derivative. I never took you for the spiritual type, John." Weir flashed him a grin.

He ducked his head sheepishly. "Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up. I'm still not ready for the whole ascension thing."

Weir shrugged. "I never said you had to be. Hell, who knows. Maybe your spiritual journey lies outside of your Ancient heritage?"

John turned to look at her, eyebrow raised half-questioningly, half-incredulously. Weir smiled and shrugged again.

"It's just a thought," she said, before pushing away from the railing and heading back inside.

After a final look out at the waves breaking against the pier, John turned to follow her, shoving his hands into his pockets. He stopped short as the coolness of metal transferred to his warm skin, and he pulled the object out to inspect it. There, in the middle of his palm, was Rosa's cross, the light glinting off the emerald center, and the golden chain twisted around his fingers.


End file.
